


show stopper

by dotpyenji



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Help, M/M, i dunno man even tho this fic is longer than my last two fics it has a somewhat simpler feel...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotpyenji/pseuds/dotpyenji
Summary: Special guests arrive at the circus, and Fritz is eager to please one specific person; though, he is unsure as to why.
Relationships: Fritz/Vixel (Dragalia Lost)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	show stopper

Fritz raised his hand amidst the swirling beams of light and vibrantly colored confetti, a performer’s grin plastered onto his face.

“Ladieeeeees and geeeeentlemen, thank you for coming to our show tonight!“

Business as usual...well, Fritz knew better.

As Fritz continued his show patter, dramatically traipsing around the stage, he scanned the audience, as varied as ever, their cheers but a familiar background rhythm.

A richly dressed woman, probably a noble, reclined in a front-row seat, eyeing him like a hungry thief eyes a piece of meat at a butcher’s storefront.

“Put your cares and worries aside and let us welcome you to a world of dreams!“ Fritz urged the spectators.

A hassled-looking mother sat in the middle of the crowd, seated between two grinning boys waving their arms rapidly.

“Prepare for a magical, mystical, MARVELOUS circus unlike anything you’ve seen before!“

A man clad in purple armor warily flitted about behind the sea of circus-goers; probably a soldier from the Empire who decided to forgo his loyalty for a night of fun. Many such people had visited the circus recently; some had even spoken to Annelie post-show, thanking her for her hard work.

Working for the Empire must be stressful; not that Fritz held much sympathy.

“I hope you’re all ready to be amazed beyond reason! “

And, finally, Fritz saw what he’d been looking for—a gaggle of children, dressed in frilly white, flanked by a large creature reminiscent of a polar bear.

The Harmonia Choir and the dragon Maritimus.

It was Vixel who had told him in advance that Maritimus wanted to let the kids see a show as an advanced Dragonyule present. Fritz didn’t mind; more customers were never unwelcome. So he took care of the preparations; he talked to Annelie about it, and they sent tickets over to the orphanage for tonight’s show, without charge. Come on, they were from an orphanage. What sort of sick individual would demand exorbitant fees from an _orphanage_?

(The tickets weren’t so pricey, but still.)

He’d invited Vixel, too. After all, Vixel was his good friend. They’d started talking after an accidental run-in at the Halidom, and never stopped since. After all, they shared many interests, both being semi-professionals in the entertainment industries. Ecstatic fans, the dizzying pressure of fame, the thrill of their crafts—it was comforting, having someone who shared the same experiences.

Fritz couldn’t ask for a better…friend.

 _Friend_ , Fritz thought to himself, _just a friend,_ even as he scanned the crowd eagerly for said supposed friend.

Seated right beside Maritimus, who took up two seats, was the conductor himself. They were a decent distance from the stage—not front row, but not too far back either—so Fritz could somewhat make out Vixel’s expression. A gentle smile graced his lips, and Fritz found himself slowly mirroring the expression.

The loudness of the crowd seemed to fade away; the edges of Fritz’s vision began to blur.

Vixel seemed to catch Fritz staring at him, and waved. The gesture nearly made Fritz stop in his tracks. Even from such a distance, Vixel was dazzling; the straightness of his posture, the quiet strength in his smile. No wonder he had so many fans; his mature and graceful personage was enough to make anyone swoon.

“Fritz?” a voice called, distant, from a thousand galaxies away.

Enough to make any _woman_ swoon, Fritz corrected himself.

“Fritz!”

Someone behind him poked his shoulder hard, causing Fritz to jolt upright.

“Ack!” Fritz, snapped out of his trance, whirled around and was greeted by Annelie, who wore a teasing smile.

“Now’s no time to space out, chum!” Annelie’s wide eyes glimmered with urgency, though they betrayed no annoyance. “Everyone’s eyes are on you!”

“Ah—right.” Fritz threw a glance at the crowd; the cheers hadn’t stopped, thankfully. “Sorry ‘bout that, Boss,” he whispered. “Let’s get back to the show!”

Annelie nodded briskly and tottered back to her place on stage.

Fritz faced the audience and gave a polite, but exaggerated, bow. “Once again, we thank you for coming to our show tonight. For our first act, I, Fritz the Magnificent, will dazzle you with my splendiferous dagger-wielding skills!“

The crowd erupted into applause.

Fritz waltzed onto center stage and unsheathed two knives from his belt. He tossed both into the air, watching them spin—once, twice, thrice. Time seemed to slow as they reached the peak of their throw—they were suspended, stock-still, in the air for a few long seconds—before hurtling downwards at a frightening speed.

Nonchalantly, Fritz threw up his hands, caught both blades, and proceeded to toss them up again, much to the crowd’s delight. The knives twirled and spun and flipped, up and down, up and down. He unsheathed more knives from his belt and added them to the mix. Soon he was juggling eight knives in all.

He was confident in his skill. Still, as he deftly caught and tossed his familiar bladed companions, he recalled how he had furiously practiced his act yesterday, repeating the motions into the wee hours of the night.

“Aren’t you already good at that, though?” another circus member had asked him, confused.

Fritz had grinned and said, “I can never be too prepared! We have special guests tomorrow, y’know.”

If he slipped up now, he’d be disappointing Vixel—no, the children. So he couldn’t afford to mess up.

Fritz caught all the knives and raised his hands in the air, the knives’ handles nestled between his fingers, their blades forming fan shapes.

“How was that?” he asked the crowd, which roared enthusiastically in response.

Despite the frenzied screams and clapping hands, Fritz found his eyes on Vixel once again. Was he having a good time?

Vixel was no longer smiling. His arms were crossed. He wasn’t even looking at Fritz; rather, his eyes seemed to be on something behind the dagger-thrower. Annelie, perhaps? Or Liger; the big lug drew a lot of attention.

Perhaps Vixel was simply bored.

Fritz didn’t mind; not everyone was a circus person. At least, that’s what he told himself, as his grip on the knives tightened.

He forced a wide grin; standard showman protocol. “Now, for my next act, I will throw these knives at far-away targets! You don’t want to miss this, folks; I promise I won’t miss a single one!”

The other circus members hauled in wooden targets, painted with red circles, from backstage. It was a familiar scene; the scraping of wood against the stage floor, the bright, flashy costumes, the glint of knives in his hands.

“Esteemed guests, a moment of silence, if you will.” Fritz pressed the flat side of a knife to his mouth—an alternate take on the universal _shhh_.

The crowd simmered down almost immediately. Fritz tore his eyes away from Vixel and threw his first knife at the farthest target on the stage.

It hit dead center—of course it did. Ecstatic, rousing claps followed, and Fritz threw his adoring fans a lazy smile, as if to say, _Did I do that?_

The Harmonia Choir kids were bouncing frantically; some held balloons and others, bags of popcorn. Maritimus, the big ball of fluff, had his paws up too; Fritz worried that the people behind him couldn’t see, but that was a problem for another time.

Vixel, on the other hand, had his face scrunched up. He still wasn’t looking at Fritz. That was definitely a frown on his features; even from a distance, Fritz could tell.

Fritz was performing, so he couldn’t show his disappointment. Rather, he turned around, as not to face the conductor, and threw another dagger at the second-farthest target.

Once again, it struck home with a satisfying _thwack_.

It was fine if Vixel didn’t appreciate his skills. They may be friends through their shared experiences in the entertainment industry, but Vixel’s job was miles away from Fritz’s. While Fritz wore eye-catching yellows and purples as he strived for flash and vigor in the circus, Vixel’s work was of a more somber, poetic quality; drawing out music, mixing delicate sounds to create resounding rhapsodies.

Fritz threw another knife, this time with his eyes closed.

_Thwack._

More applause.

Why did he invite Vixel in the first place? Surely, it was obvious that a man of such high class wouldn’t like the loud and flashy sparkle of the big top. Children, sure, would be instant fans, but Vixel? The conductor had expressed admiration in his dagger-tossing prowess, but that was in the Halidom’s meagerly decorated hallways, or the confines of either of their rooms, not in the glitz and glamour of the circus tent, so aesthetically far from the hallowed halls of an opera house.

It wasn’t that Fritz thought of the circus as a lower form of art. Rather, it was fundamentally different from the entertainment industry Vixel was in; and he was a fool to think otherwise, to hope that Vixel, too, would be as captivated as he was with the big top.

There was nothing particularly amazing about his dagger-throwing prowess, anyway. It was a skill born out of necessity; if you don’t hit first, you die, or so it used to go. In the end, no matter how many people his daggers pleased, it never changed their deadly origins.

Fritz was still throwing knives for his own selfish reasons, and Vixel, a former thug himself, would know that better than ever. He’d seen right through Fritz’s smiling mask like glass.

No matter; Fritz was sure they’d still be friends after this. Vixel was gracious enough to accept his invitation; certainly he knew what to expect.

Still, Fritz’s heart throbbed.

_Thwack._

Fritz opened his eyes and glanced, one last time, at the space beside Maritimus.

It was empty.

He stifled a sigh.

_Thwack, thwack._

After the show, he’d go up to Vixel and apologize. He didn’t mean to drag Vixel into watching something he didn’t enjoy, just as he didn’t mean to bore Vixel with his endless chats about circus life. Vixel never seemed bored during those times; he was an awfully good listener, leaning his head ever so slightly in Fritz’s direction, humming as Fritz talked. But today said otherwise—Vixel had merely pretended to listen, out of politeness.

His sudden absence struck Fritz’s pride like a knife to a target.

_THWACK!_

One last knife. Fritz faced the Vixel-less audience and winked coyly, triggering sighs of adulation. He had other fans; at least _some_ people appreciated him. He was undeserving of their appreciation, but he liked it all the same.

 _Though it would have been better if_ —

Fritz shook his head. No time for that. He was caring too much about something so trifling. After all, Vixel was just a casual friend.

_Was he?_

He glanced at the crowd again, as a way of counting his blessings. There was the rich lady in the front seats, so engaged in the show that she was on the edge of her chair. Then there was the hassled mother, looking much less hassled, and her two sons, just as enthusiastic. And the Harmonia Choir kids, all smiles, and Maritimus, paws up in the air, to the chagrin of the audience members directly behind him.

No Vixel, of course.

And…was he forgetting anyone else?

Fritz steadied the remaining knife in his hand, ready to strike. There was one last target, to his left. He’d toss his blade, bow, and move on to the next act.

Aim, and—

Someone tackled him from behind, hard. Just as they hit the ground, Fritz heard a loud _swish_ just above his head.

“Curses!” cried a voice from backstage, far away. Not one of a circus troupe member—Fritz knew them all.

Fritz raised his head, disoriented, to look at the source of the voice. He saw a figure in purple armor peek out from backstage, a bow and arrow in his hands.

The soldier from the Empire.

“I-it’s the Empire!” one terrified audience member screamed.

“We’re under attack!”

“Someone, HELP!”

Instinctively, without thinking, Fritz threw his last knife at the Empire soldier. From his thieving days, during which he had snuck near plenty of the Empire’s forces, he knew there was a chink in their armor, just between the shoulder and neck. Hopefully—

The solider yelped in pain and went down, and was instantly mobbed by five or so circus members. Poor guy. There wasn’t a worse way to go: being beaten up by a crew of jugglers and trapeze artists dressed in frilly, color-clashing apparel.

Fritz exhaled in relief. He doubted any more Empire soldiers would cause trouble for today; he had only seen the one.

He heard the tapping of Annelie’s heels as she walked about, trying to calm down the crowd. She was charming and persuasive; he was sure they’d settle down in no time, though it was probably best if he helped.

But, first things first—who had tackled him?

“Fritz?” said a familiar, soothing voice from directly above him.

Fritz nearly jumped; no, it couldn’t be.

But there it was; Vixel, eyes heavy with concern, was on top of him, pianist’s slender fingers pressing on Fritz’s shoulders, his knees bearing down on the back of Fritz’s thighs.

“Ah—um—Vixel?!” Fritz could feel his face burn up with a mix of indescribable emotions, as bright and jumbled as the confetti on the stage.

Vixel smiled; it was even more intoxicating close up than from far away. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“F…fine. I’m perfectly fine.” He wasn’t. “W-what happened? Why did you—“

“Look.” Vixel pointed to the stage floor in front of them, and Fritz’s breath caught.

A single arrow had struck the ground where Vixel was pointing. That was the _swish_ Fritz had heard—the sound of the soldier’s arrow barely missing him.

He had missed death by a hair.

“Apologies for suddenly tackling you, but when I heard the commotion backstage, I couldn’t sit by idly,” Vixel said.

“When you _heard_ the commotion backstage?!” Fritz said, both awed and exasperated. “You were in the middle of a cheering crowd!”

“Well—I pick up on sounds easily. You know that.”

Fritz sighed, shuddering. He should’ve known. “Whatever. Thanks a million, Vixel. I should’ve known something was up with that Empire guy.”

“It’s no problem.”

Fritz heard Annelie’s heel-clicking get closer and closer. “Anyway, um…”

“What is it? Were you hurt? Do you want me to heal—“

“No, I’m completely fine! Just—“ Fritz inhaled shakily. “Mind getting off me for a sec?”

“Ah—!“

Vixel practically leaped off Fritz’s back, like a hare sprinting away from a hunting dog. “M-my apologies.”

Fritz got up and beamed at Vixel, careful not to let his embarrassment show. “It’s no big deal. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends…” A curious expression came upon Vixel’s face.

“Vix?”

Vixel nodded. “It is a shame I missed most of your dagger-throwing act, though. I quite enjoyed your juggling.”

“You…did?”

The conductor laughed, a songbird’s chirrup. “Who wouldn’t?”

Fritz felt the tightness in his chest unclench; all his worries had been baseless.

“Heh. Glad to hear it.” He turned around and waved at Annelie. “Everything okay?”

“Are YOU okay?!” Annelie started, as she grabbed his waist and looked at him from head to toe. “You almost got—“

“Yeah, I’m still standing, thanks to music man here.” He jammed a thumb at Vixel.

Annelie pulled back and, facing Vixel, nodded gratefully. “Thank you so much! You’re…that conductor guy who came with the Harmonia Choir, right?”

“Yes. Glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Ah, so YOU’RE Vixel! Hee hee!”

“Anyway, Boss, I guess the show’s cancelled, huh?” As he said this, Fritz gazed at the crowd, and was surprised; they were still cheering, loud as ever, as if nothing had happened. It was odd that their shouts hadn’t registered in his ears until now.

_Perhaps you were too focused on a certain someone?_

Fritz cast the thought aside. “…Actually, everyone still seems pretty hyped up.”

Annelie beamed proudly.

“I told them the whole Empire thing was part of the show,” she whispered. “Including the part where you were tackled, of course. Everyone thinks it was an act.”

Annelie’s crowd control abilities never ceased to amaze Fritz. “So, the show goes on, Boss?”

“Of course it will! The troupe’s already tied up the Empire soldier and checked the perimeter; there doesn’t seem to be any more threats, so we should be safe for now. And since your, ah, _friend_ here missed some parts of your dagger-throwing act…well, you wouldn’t mind an encore, would you?”

Fritz flinched; the way Annelie emphasized the word _friend_ had…perilous implications. Sure, he’d mentioned Vixel in passing before, but…

Vixel nodded hastily. “I suppose I should make my way back to my seat, then.”

“Sure,” Fritz called out. “Just tell the kids you were part of the show, all right?”

“Certainly.”

And with that, Vixel spun around and left, making his way back into the adoring masses.

Fritz stared as he watched Vixel disappear into the crowd. He could still feel Vixel’s hands on his back.

“Hee hee!” Annelie giggled. “Should’ve given him a thank-you kiss.”

Fritz whirled around, exasperated. “Boss, _please_ , you have got to stop that habit. It’s unprofessional.”

“Oh, not from me! I meant, _you_ should’ve given him one.”

“…What?”

“Nothiiiiing!” Annelie chuckled, then put her game face back on. “Let’s proceed with the show, shall we?”

He’d confront her later. “Absolutely, Boss.”

Fritz faced the crowd and winked, the brilliant lights almost blinding.

“Who wants an encore?” he asked, and was greeted by the crowd, whooping as one.

And as he spun around the stage, collecting the knives he had thrown, he saw Vixel’s face in the crowd, beaming, and, without thinking, he smirked back.

Strange, how he could spot Vixel in such a crowd, but missed the Empire soldier. Odd, how he cared so much for a friend—

_Oh._

Perhaps he wanted more.

No matter; it was showtime, and Fritz would deal with his feelings later. For now, he pulled the last knife out of a target, and watched it gleam in his hand, illuminated by the dazzling lights.

Sharp, shiny, perfect.

He turned to the audience: the rich lady in the front, the mother and her sons, the Harmonia Choir, Mariti, everyone in between—and, of course, Vixel, a show stopper in more ways than one.

“Let’s make this one to remember!” Fritz hollered, and the cheers of the spectators echoed into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> i...just felt like writing frixel again...
> 
> even though this is longer than the previous two fics, it somehow has a...simpler feel? i don't know. i hope this is all right...


End file.
